


All Out of Nutella

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [34]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Darcy is Shawn, F/M, I stole this scenario from Psych, Massimo the Dog, Rumlow is a total Lassie, You can't tell me he doesn't have a board full of criminals, and a stash of guns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:10:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy spots a suspiciously familiar face when she's the third wheel on a Jane and Thor trip.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484168
Comments: 115
Kudos: 494





	1. Birch von Cronut?

**Author's Note:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy was trudging across the snowy conference resort’s grounds on too-awkward skis, pulling her coat closer and muttering to herself. In the distance, skiers zoomed up and down the slopes. She was freezing. Why did she need to be in Canada for this combination of Jane panel talk and Thor romantic weekend, anyway? She had fled Jane and Thor’s aggressive indoor makeout sessions to try skiing. But she was a lousy skier. Just terrible. She’d fallen enough that she was sure her half-frozen knees were bruised under her ski suit. She imagined her comfortable apartment in humid, warm DC and tugged her scarf. There was a hot cocoa stand, so she bought a cup. She actually missed her lab at SHIELD. Was possibly even nostalgic for the break room with the weird spaghetti smell and the chairs that creaked. Darcy wanted to go home. She’d never complain about humidity again, she thought, covertly eavesdropping on the other people in earshot. A pair of newlyweds. Parents with three small kids, clearly hopped up on chocolate. A dark-haired guy sliding by on skis and pulling up his goggles--

Wait. 

Where did she know him from? Darcy wracked her brain, studying the dashing figure. Dark hair, dark eyes, tall. Fancy ski suit. He looked so familiar. Was he a scientist? Or a celebrity? She couldn’t quite place him, unless--he turned, made eye contact, and Darcy almost squealed. “Ohhhhhh,” she said, winking. He gave her a smile, then spoke to another guest. Darcy reached for her cell phone. He answered on the second ring.

“Lewis, whaddya want?” Brock Rumlow said.

“What’s the name of that wanted HYDRA dude on your apartment board? Birch von Cronut or whatever?” she said. “The evil scientist one? Between that guy you worked with and Ulysses Klaue?”

“Burke von Cramme?” Rumlow said. “What are you doing in my apartment again? For God’s sake, stop looking at my shit and feeding Massimo--”

“Please, I haven’t broken into your apartment in _days,”_ Darcy said. “I haven’t seen Mas since last Wednesday at least.” Natasha Romanoff had taught her to break-in, so she snuck into Rumlow’s apartment periodically to spend time with his elderly longhaired chihuahua. But only because he refused to make her his designated petsitter. She was a much more responsible petsitter than Sharon Carter, Darcy thought glumly. What did Sharon know about dog strollers and heartworm pills? Darcy had been planning to get her own dog for ages. Since 2011! She was just too busy.

“What?” he said. “Where are you, Lewis?”

“I’m looking at von Cronut, helloooo,” Darcy said. “I’m in Canada with Jane at that resort. He’s here.”

“You’re looking at him? You can’t possibly be sure--”

“Hey,” Darcy yelled. “Mr. von Cronut!” The evil genius in question looked at her, frowned when she waved, and proceeded to glide away. “Ooops, he’s skiing away, it’s definitely him,” she told Rumlow. “Should I get Thor or chase him myself?”

“Lewis, do not chase him, he is dangerous!” Rumlow yelled in her ear. “Stay there! I’ll catch a plane.”

“Good idea!” she said. “You get on that plane. Bring Mas! I’m putting you in my bra, I need both hands to ski,” she said. “Also, we’re out of Nutella!”

“I don’t eat Nu--” Rumlow said, as she wiggled her phone in. 

“Hold on, he can actually ski!” she yelled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole everything great about this from one of my favorite episodes of Psych:


	2. Hot Cocoa?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Rumlow’s quinjet touched down in Canada within two hours. She’d probably gotten herself killed, he thought sourly. She’d do that, just for attention. The quinjet ramp lowered. Rumlow sighed at the burst of cold and then squinted through the falling snowflakes. Was that Darcy? Or was he seeing things? It looked like her standing on the resort’s porch. He stepped forward and the figure turned. He paused at the foot of the ramp. “Hey!” Darcy yelled, jogging across the snow. She was wearing a ridiculous pom-pom hat. “Where’s Mas?”

“I left him with Carter,” he said bluntly. “Romanoff’s with me.” A pale, thin man was following Darcy and smiled nervously at Rumlow.

“Sir--” he began.

“Awww, man!” Darcy complained, scrunching her nose. It was pink and barely visible between her hat and the scarf wrapped around her neck. “I told you to bring him!”

“Don’t talk to me right now,” Rumlow grumbled, “I spent the entire trip arguing with some Canadian official who wanted to take my guns, I’m not bringing my dog here. Be quiet.”

“He doesn’t mean you, he means me,” Darcy told the pale man. He’d gone a little paler when Rumlow spoke. “This is Senior Constable Martin, isn’t that fun to say?” The policeman smiled. “They also have an Inspector Bouchard! Great names, right?” Darcy told him.

“It’s fucking swell, Lewis,” Rumlow said. 

“Very nice to meet you--” Martin began, extending a gloved hand, as Romanoff descended the ramp.

“Hello,” she said to the constable. Martin looked vaguely dazzled and left his hand out. Rumlow was used to this routine when people first saw Romanoff. He walked swiftly towards the resort, disregarding Martin. Lewis’s hat was bobbing in his peripheral vision as she hurried to keep up.

“Sorry!” Martin chirped, blushing. Rumlow saw Natasha’s answering grin. 

“Don’t worry about it, pal, I’ll be out of here as soon as I have a lead. What was von Cramme’s last known location?” Rumlow asked.

“In the dining room,” Darcy said.

“The dining room?” Rumlow said.

“Under Mr. Odinson’s hammer,” Martin said politely.

“Mew-Mew is good people,” Darcy said. “I can’t believe you left Mas with Sharon! I apprehend your evil genius and you don’t even bring the dog.” She huffed. “Tasha, can you believe him? The worst!”

“He was in a terrible hurry to get here,” Romanoff said dryly. Rumlow was mildly irritated by her smug look. He knew what that was about. Romanoff's ridiculous setups and theories, he thought.

“Of course I was. Von Cramme is number three on my most wanted list,” Rumlow said, stomping into the resort. The door opened with a bang. “You’re lucky you’re not dead,” he told Lewis.

“Gee, thanks,” Darcy said. They walked into the dining room. Thor was happily munching on a giant waffle. He smiled. Jane Foster was asleep on a nearby chair.

“Hello, friends! We have apprehended him!” Thor said. On the floor, Burke von Cramme was splayed beneath Mjolnir. He stared at Rumlow.

“That’s the dude, right?” Darcy said. “From your list?” She leaned over to Martin. “He has a board of criminals,” she explained.

“Yeah,” Rumlow said. He stepped forward. “Romanoff and I are arresting you on behalf of SHIELD.”

“There is not a prison that can hold me,” von Cramme said grandly. “You know this, Rumlow. Fury knows this. Why continue with this absurdity?” he said, shrugging.

“You’re the one under the hammer,” Rumlow said wryly.

“How did you ever realize it was him?” Martin said in a low voice, from somewhere behind Rumlow. 

“I think I’m a little bit psychic,” Darcy whispered. “I saw him and my mind went, _boom, that’s the von Cronut dude,_ you know?”

“Uh-huh,” Martin said.

“Jesus H. Christ, Lewis,” Rumlow muttered.

“She is a very charming woman,” von Cramme said, eyeing Darcy. “Terrible skier, however.”

“You keep your eyes that way,” Rumlow barked. Romanoff’s phone rang. 

“Hello?” she said. “Understood, sir.”

“What is it?” Rumlow asked.

“He wants you to stay with Foster and Lewis, Thor, he needs you in DC,” Romanoff said. “I’m taking him back,” she said, gesturing to von Cramme.

“Boooo,” Darcy said. “Don’t take Thor!”

“Yeah, boo,” Martin said. Thor sighed.

“We must wake Jane,” he said.

“Oh, I’ll do it,” Darcy said. “I got this.” She reached for an unused spoon, then leaned over and poked Foster with it. “Jane, wake up!” she said.

“Mhhmmppffft,” Jane said, eyes firmly shut. “Go ‘way.”

* * *

“This is terrible security,” he told Lewis. It was the most bizarre outing he’d ever been on. Rumlow looked around. The three of them were riding in a horse-drawn carriage. Lewis was wedged at his elbow, while Foster was on her other side. Thor had booked the carriage ride for Foster, apparently. When he left, Lewis had insisted the three of them go. The horses’ feet went _clop-clop_ on the park’s pathway. 

“Isn’t this nice, Jane?” Darcy said brightly, ignoring him. “It’s so pretty! I’m sad that Thor had to go.” 

“Yeah,” Foster said. “The sky’s really clear, at least.” She nodded and went back to peering through her telescope. Foster had turned it into an impromptu skywatching trip.

“It was a good idea,” Darcy said. “Thor’s a romantic.” Her voice was wistful.

“Very romantic,” he said dryly.

“I wish Mas was here,” she said.

“I’m sure Carter’s walking him,” he said, amused by Lewis’s huff of resentment. He waited a beat. She hated silences.

“Cocoa?” Darcy said, holding a thermos out to him. “I have milk chocolate with marshmallows? Or dark, but it’s drinking chocolate--Constable Martin hooked me up with the good stuff.”

“This is the good stuff?” he said, taking the second thermos.

“It’s from Belize,” she said. “Pure chocolate, not powder. Woooo,” she joked. “Legally addictive chocolate.” Rumlow chuckled. 

“Legally addictive?” he said, peering inside.

“Caffeine is a legally addictive substance,” she said seriously. “Nora Ephron wouldn’t lie, Brock.” He was carefully sipping the rich, bitter stuff when Foster tilted her head back, telescope wobbling precariously. 

“Can she really see anything with that?” Rumlow asked. Darcy shrugged.

“Shhhh, she’s happy, don’t bother her,” she told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the carriage ride is also a Psych homage!


	3. How Many Scarves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! TINY Spoiler warning: I'm mostly riffing on Psych's "how many hats?" bit with Shawn & Henry here, but you can read Darcy's "new job" in this as a nod to how she appears in WandaVision. Which I've only seen gifs of, but I'm so excited about.

“Anyway, Jane is doing a week of observations at night,” Darcy said. “In West Virginia, up in the mountains. She leaves tomorrow.” Natasha nodded. They were sitting in a crowded DC coffee shop. 

“How many scarves in the room?” she asked Darcy coolly.  _ Uh-oh,  _ Darcy thought.  _ A test!  _ She loved Natasha’s tests.

“Four,” Darcy said, trying to recollect all the scarves present. Natasha was teaching her observation skills. She kept mentioning a new role for Darcy at SHIELD. Which was good--Darcy wanted something fun to do that combined her work in astrophysics with field investigations. Something more intensive. 

“Not five?” Natasha asked.

“The woman near the mug display is wearing a headband, not a scarf,” Darcy said, feeling a tinge of smugness when Natasha smiled.

“Good,” she said. “Are you ready to meet with Fury?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “But what are we going to tell him? That you’ve been teaching me?”

“Yes,” Natasha said. “Also, that you are decidedly not HYDRA, have good relationships with several Avengers, and would make an excellent consultant working with us across several agencies. That your academic work in astrophysics is both field-useful and an excellent cover for someone who wants to pick up information.”

“Nobody pays attention to women in STEM,” Darcy said, shaking her head. 

“I expect Fury to pay attention to you,” Natasha said. “How many hoodies?”

“Three.”

“Good.”

“We could always tell Fury I’m psychic,” Darcy joked. Natasha’s eyes gleamed.

“That is an idea,” she said.

“I was kidding!” Darcy said. Then she smiled. “Okay,” Darcy said. “Let’s have this meeting.”

  
  


* * *

Rumlow was making dinner when his doorbell rang and his dog sprung up and ran to the door, barking furiously. The tiny white chihuahua bounced wildly. “Calm down, Mas,” he said soothingly. “Don’t hurt yourself.” The dog had a luxating knee and sometimes accidentally slid into walls when he wasn’t stable. Mas continued to bark and bounce around his ankles. “I can’t tell you nothing,” Rumlow said fondly, checking the security cam on his door. It was Darcy Lewis, standing there in a little gray hat and a bright scarf. She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Whaddya want, Lewis?” he called through the door.

“I need to talk to you,” she yelled back, over Mas’s wild barking. “Also, rude!” Laughing, Rumlow scooped up Mas and opened the door.

“Hi,” he said. “Come in.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Mas!” Her voice was happy. They stood in his foyer for a minute while she lavished his dog with attention, taking Mas out of Rumlow’s arms, so the little dog could kiss her face. She was giggling when he raised his eyebrows at her.

“Quit making out with my dog, Lewis,” he said. “I was in the kitchen.”

“I’m sure you’ve made out with some dogs,” she snarked, following him. 

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, laughing. “Sure. You jealous?”

“No,” she said, making a face at him. She sighed. She was totally jealous, he thought. Lewis had a little crush on him, he had realized. Lewis pretended it was about Mas, but she had to be jealous of Sharon Carter for some reason. The reason had to be him, he thought. As he stood at his stove, Lewis got on the floor, set Mas down, and dragged one of Mas’s squeaky toys across the carpet.  _ Squeak-squeak-squeak _ was followed by Mas’s  _ brap-brap-brap  _ bark. He watched them. Lewis’s dark hair was so long, he thought Mas might get tangled in the strands. She caught him watching. “What?” Lewis said.

“You wanna stay for dinner?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. Then she frowned. “What are you making?”

“Salmon,” he said. She scrunched her nose.

“I’ll order pizza,” she said, pulling out her phone. 

“Seriously?” Rumlow said, chuckling. 

“You don’t have to eat it,” she said. “But I need actual food. Food and snacks.”

“I keep telling you, an apple’s a snack,” he said. She shuddered dramatically.

“No,” Darcy said, still tapping the screen.

“Is that an app for pizza?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said slowly, as if he was a child.

“I haven’t ordered pizza since you had to talk to an actual fucking person,” he admitted.

“How did you live?” Lewis said, giving him one of her sympathetic looks. Or, he thought she was being sympathetic. “Did you want some guy pizza? Meat lovers?” she asked. “Instead of gross fish?”

“What?” he said. “Meat lovers is guy pizza, huh?”

“Typically,” she said. “Unless you’re vegan and then it’s just cauliflower and tofu cheese and a little bit of red sauce.”

“Uh-huh,” Rumlow said. “Order me the non-vegan option.”

“Okey dokey,” she said. She gave Mas a beaming smile and tossed his squeaky across the room. Mas ran towards the toy excitedly.

“Don’t play too rough with him,” he said. 

“I would never,” Lewis said, almost pouting. She tapped the phone. “I would take away your extra sausage if you continue to insult me, however,” she muttered. 

“That right?” he said, amused.

“Possibly,” she said. Mas came back with the toy and dropped it in her lap. 

“Did you put a hole in that?” Brock said, noticing a gap in the felt fabric. 

“Yep,” Lewis said.

“I’m going to have to sew this up again,” Brock said to Mas, wagging his finger. Mas looked unrepentant. Lewis looked at him in surprise.

“You sew?” she said. She passed him the ball. 

“I sew these,” he said, sighing. “They’re his favorite toy. Got ‘em from a website that makes toys for little dogs out of felt ten years ago. He always pulls the stuffing out. I don’t think the lady in Hawaii makes ‘em anymore. They’re called merlin balls.” 

“That’s,” Darcy said, grinning, “that’s um--”

“Don’t say it, I’m getting my sewing kit,” he said, turning towards his bedroom.

“It’s really sweet and I’m very impressed!” she yelled at his back. He snorted and grabbed the purple thread and needle that matched Mas’s toy. When he returned with the mended merlin ball, Lewis was in his kitchen.

“What are you doing?” he said. She’d washed out the pan he was going to use for his salmon.

“Putting your stuff away. Which of your wines am I allowed to drink?” she asked, hanging up the pan and then leaning down to open his wine fridge. Something dawned on him. People didn’t even notice the wine fridge.

“Did you drink my Sonoma-Cutrer when I was on that mission in Libya?” Rumlow said. At her blank look, he huffed. “My good rosé?” Rumlow asked. “My favorite fucking wine?”

“Ohhh,” she said. She looked chagrined. “I didn’t realize! That’s your favorite? I thought it was wine you kept around for women!” she said. He shook his head.

“I come home, wanting to relax, watch a fight, have a little fucking wine, and there’s half a glass left in the bottle,” he scolded. 

“I’m sorry!” she said.

“I had to have this lousy red my sister gave me,” he complained.

“I can’t believe you like rosé,” she murmured.

“Just for that, you’re getting Sutter Home,” he groused. She lit up.

“I love Sutter Home,” she said, delighted. He rolled his eyes. They sat on the couch, drinking and waiting for the pizza, with Mas sitting between them. She scratched behind Mas’s ears and he watched her, thinking. 

“Why’d you stop by tonight?” he said.

“I’ve got to tell you something,” Darcy said. 

Yeah?” he said. She was about to speak when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get that,” he said, rising. “Hold onto Mas.” 

They were eating when he remembered she’d been about to tell him something. “What were you gonna ask me?” Rumlow said, dodging Mas’s attempt to snag some of his pizza. “We probably should be sitting at the damn table.”

“Yeah,” she said. “He can’t have pizza, I remember. No fats. Okay.” Rumlow wondered when he’d mentioned Mas’s low-fat pancreatic diet at work?

“I’ll carry your pizza,” he said. He was setting the box down when he caught her frowning. “This doesn’t count as a date,” he said teasingly. “You’ll have to wait for me to ask you in the morning---”

“I’m leaving town,” Darcy said. “Fury’s offered me a new job--I’m consulting on something for a few months.”

“What about Jane?” he said, feeling stunned. He’d sat down his slice automatically. “You can’t leave Jane.”

“Now that I’m finished with grad school”--she’d turned in and defended her dissertation remotely, he knew--“Jane’s already hiring new interns and grad students for her lab and summer field work. I hope some of them will last,” Darcy said haltingly. “And I want new challenges, too,” she added. “You know that. I get bored.”

“What are you consulting on?” Rumlow asked. She hesitated slightly.

“It’s classified,” Darcy said. “I’m not supposed to say.”

“Is it the New Mexico project?” he asked.

“What’s the New Mexico project?” Darcy asked, leaning in. Her eyebrows had gone up. 

“It’s classified,” he shot back, huffing a little. She looked a little stung, then stuck her tongue out at him. “We’re not five,” he scolded. 

“We’re not even together,” she said. He felt a little stung then. She must’ve misinterpreted his silence. “Maybe our timing’s just wrong, we’ll never work this out,” she said, looking away and pursing her lips. “I should go,” she announced, standing up. His jaw dropped. 

“Hold on,” he said, following her. “Don’t run off because you’re scared.”

“Scared? You think I’m scared?” Darcy said, whipping her head around. They were close together now. “I’m not scared.”

“Yeah?” he said, leaning in. “I’m, uh, terrified.” Their faces were a fraction of an inch apart. Darcy looked into his eyes.

“What are we doing?” she asked, voice soft. “Brock.” He didn’t mind the way she said his name.

“Having a real close argument,” he said. 

“A close argument?” she whispered, the corners of her mouth turning up.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “I like all my arguments to start like this, quietly.”

“Yeah?” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. “I’m mad at you for stringing me along. So mad.” 

“Mmm,” he said, moving to kiss her. Before their lips could touch, there was movement in his peripheral vision. “Mas,” he said, sighing. The chihuahua had hopped into a dining chair and was now struggling to climb onto the table, eying the pizza boxes. “I gotta get him before he falls off and fractures his leg,” Brock said apologetically.

“He’s done that?” she said, looking horrified.

“When he was two,” Brock said. “Now the big worry is his pancreatitis.”

“I knew about that,” she said. “He can only have low-fat dog food, oil-free cooked vegetables, and plain chicken breasts. And Cheerios as treats. I read the instructions you gave Sharon.”

“You read my binder?” he said, picking up Mas and pushing the chairs in. He looked at her. 

“I wanted to be a good pet-sitter,” she said. “I pay attention to things!”

“Uh-huh,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I thought you were just a little bit psychic?”

“Don’t smolder at me while you hold a cute dog, I can’t handle it,” Darcy said, turning a little pink.

“You’re the one leaving me,” he said, pouting.

“Ah, not the duckface and the hair _and_ the Mas,” she said, covering her eyes. “Too much!”

“Too much for what?” he said, feeling smug.

“My heart, my ovaries, the whole shebang,” she said, hands still over both eyes.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin balls were adorable, handmade small dog toys from Hawaii that I think are sadly no more: http://cavcorner.blogspot.com/2010/07/merlins-magical-balls-have-ball-and.html


	4. Hang On, Little Tomato

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! Spoiler warning: I'm riffing vaguely on the gifs I've seen of WandaVision, but it's not specific enough that you need to have seen the show or that I even know exactly what happens on Wandavision (yet!). I'm also playing around with Shawn's "shared custody of Fruit Loops" bit on an episode of Psych.

Darcy was sitting in the medical tent waiting for someone to bring her a sling when she heard his voice. “Where’s Darcy--Dr. Lewis?” Brock was yelling. “Look, you will let me see her or I will shoot you, understand?” There was a round of heavy footfalls and he burst through the flap, then stopped. He was frowning.

“Hi, babe!” Darcy said. “Did you want to sign my new cast?” Her arm had just been cast in the hard plaster shell.

“You broke your arm?” Brock said.

“But they let me pick purple for the outside--” she began, when he cut her off abruptly.

“You took this job, you didn’t tell me what you were doing, you got sucked into this--this thing, whatever it is, and you broke your arm?” he said.

“Well, it’s not like _I_ broke my arm, it was an accident, Brock!” Darcy said, startled by his intensity. 

“You shouldn’t have been here in the first place,” he complained. “What would Mas do if something happened to you, huh?”

“Who’s taking care of Mas?” Darcy said, trying to cross her arms and succeeding in whacking herself in the arm with her cast. “Ow,” she said.

“Carter,” he said.

“Always Carter,” Darcy said, feeling miffed.

“I don’t know whose goddamned idea it was to drag you into this,” he muttered bitterly.

“Oh, I can tell you,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes. She’d butted heads with the guy overseeing her first mission as a newly-minted PhD. He was a tool who talked over women. Total douchebag. “I’m gonna smack him with my cast arm,” she added. “My next job is not going to be like this--” Brock sighed heavily and rubbed his brow. 

“What are you talking about?” he said.

“Huh?” Darcy said.

“You are going back to a safe lab job without glowy things and--and whatever the fuck that thing out there is,” he said, pointing. 

“You’re not the boss of me!” Darcy said, stunned. 

“We’re in a relationship,” he said bluntly. “Or are we not in a relationship?”

“Um, hello, a relationship in a link between two things,” Darcy said. “You can’t just declare me a homebody! I have things I want to do.”

“Like getting injured in life-threatening situations?” he said.

“I did not--that wasn’t my fault,” Darcy said. She waved her arms and then winced when the cast felt awkward and heavy. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me,” she said. 

“Just get your stuff and we’ll get out of here,” Brock said.

“Um, excuse me?” Darcy said. “I’m not going anywhere. My work isn’t done.” She dug in, refusing to leave, even when Brock begged and pleaded. Even when he promised to let her buy Mas little outfits. Then he tried to wheedle her with kisses and cuddles. She still said no.

“We could get Mas a little friend, huh?” Brock said, pouting at her. “Be a two-dog couple, baby.”

“But I’d need to stay home with the kids and not travel for work, right?” Darcy said, arching an eyebrow. He made several pained faces, huffing and looking guilty. “That’s what I thought.” She glared. “Why don’t you ask Sharon to be your doggymama?” Darcy said sharply. 

“I don’t want her to be my doggymama,” he said, sighing. “Look, I just want you to be safe, okay?”

“You realize you do this with Mas, too?” Darcy said. “You wouldn’t let him go to the dog park! You’re overprotective and paranoid and you helicopter.” 

“I helicopter?” Brock said. She pointed at him. 

“Uh-huh, you totally do that--” Darcy said.

“It was a dog park with big dogs in it,” he said hotly. “You know Mas doesn’t know his own size--he’ll fight anything!”

“Sure,” she said sarcastically.

“I would be fine with a small dog park,” he said defensively. He glared at the tent wall. Darcy waited. “You’re really not coming home with me?” he said, sounding slightly pitiful.

“No,” she said. “But I’ll be back when this is over.”

“Uh-huh,” Brock said.

“I will,” Darcy said, grinning at him. “Back to get Mas a buddy and buy them _both_ little outfits.”

“I’m still mad at you,” he muttered. “This isn’t funny.”

He was pretending to be madder than he was, Darcy knew, because he looked like he wanted to actually cry when she hobbled--she’d sprained her ankle, too--out to his SUV with him when he had to leave for DC. “I’m not happy,” Brock said, looking around at the field staging and all the personnel and blinking rapidly. “I don’t like any of this shit.”

“I acknowledge your anxiety,” Darcy said, “but you have to let me do my job. I went to school for years for this, Commander.”

“You could teach,” he said. “You’d be a great professor. You like people.”

“Pffhht,” Darcy said. “I don’t like people’s terrible Wikipedia essays.”

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, embracing her. She felt him press his mouth against the top of her head. 

“I’m coming home soon,” Darcy said in his ear.

“Yeah?” he said. His voice was low. 

“We have joint custody of those Fruit Loops,” Darcy said. 

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“And I’m pretty sure I left some Pop Tarts at your place,” she said lightly. He snorted. “What? Pretzel Salted Caramel is new,” she said. 

  
  


* * *

“I’m sure she’s gonna be home soon,” Brock told the chihuahua. He’d been cooking dinner, waiting on Darcy’s nightly video call. Mas was squeaking his merlin ball enthusiastically. Brock turned over his chicken breast with a sigh. “Not soon enough,” Brock added. His phone rang and he answered it quickly. “Hi, honey,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Maria Hill said.

“Sorry, I thought you were Darcy,” Brock said.

“I got your request,” Maria said, “to work on procedural and jurisdictional reports.”

“Yeah,” he said. “So?”

“I also got Darcy’s email telling me _not_ to let you take a job that will allow you to hover over her wherever she goes and glare at everyone she works with,” Maria said coolly.

“Shit,” Brock said.

“She knows you,” Maria said. 

“She’s smart,” he said. He sighed. “Maria, you gotta tell me--is she safe? I need to know she’s safe.”

“You know I can’t divulge mission information,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. There was a beep on the line. He looked at the screen. “That’s Darcy, I gotta go, okay?”

“See you at the office,” Maria said, clicking off. Brock opened the app to see Darcy’s smiling face.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

“Hi,” she said, giving him a wave. She had a knit cap and gloves on, so he knew the tent was cold. Darcy always called him during her overnight shifts monitoring--well, whatever she was fucking doing. He didn’t know. It bothered him, like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. He wanted to know so he could map out possible risks and warn her, he thought grimly. “How’s your night going?” she asked.

“Me and Mas are grilling chicken,” he told her.

“I’m having microwave tomato soup,” she said, holding up a plastic container. “I’m very jelly. Tell Mas I love him--”

“He knows you love him,” Brock said wryly, holding the phone so she could see Mas happily chewing on his toy. He heard Darcy’s giggle of delight.

“Hey, Mas!” she called out.

“Tomato soup?” he asked, when he turned the phone back to face him.

“I like tomato soup,” she said. She grinned. “And you.”

“Me, huh?”

“You’re a cute tomato,” she told him.

“I miss you,” he said. “Quit. Come home. We’ll take Mas to the big dog park together.”

“Brock,” she said, sighing. “You know I can’t.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But I have to ask.” He plated his chicken breast and then spooned over the sauce with a sigh. 

“Hang in there, little tomato,” she told him, voice gentle.

“Where do I know that from?” Brock asked, trying to stay calm.

“It’s my favorite Pink Martini album. Mine and Mas’s,” she said. 

“Your’s and Mas’s, huh?” Brock said. “He’s got a favorite album?”

“We listened to it while you were gone on that Cambodian mission,” she told him. 

“You know,” Brock said. “I’m, uh, really resisting the urge to drive down there and rendition you personally. That’s the kind of thing I would’ve done back in the day, when I was undercover--”

“Just how many girlfriends did you kidnap, Mr. Rumlow?” Darcy said wryly.

“I didn’t kidnap anybody who didn’t wanna be kidnapped--” he was saying, when there was a boom from somewhere behind her. Darcy turned as the screen image rocked back and forth and grew fuzzy.

“What the hell?” she said.

“Sweetheart--” he began, but the screen abruptly went dark. "Shit! Shit!" The sound of his voice got Mas's attention.


End file.
